Chapter One: Scorpius' Secret
The train gained speed, moving faster and faster, until it had left the station completely. London flashed past the windows, and Al and Rose were left standing in an empty compartment, neither knowing what to say.
Al felt a surge of excitement in his throat- this was it, they were finally off. The place that he had dreamed of for as long as he could remember...he would be a part of it. He looked quickly at Rose to see if she felt the same way, but she was gazing out of the window.
"Rose?" Al said tentatively. She jumped at the sound of his voice. "Are- are you OK?"
"What? Oh, yes, fine." And she resumed her staring contest with the glass pane. Something in her tone made Al suspect a problem, but he disregarded it and sat down.
He caught sight of his reflection, and stuck his tongue out at it. Pale, thin-faced, green-eyed, it was a family joke that, upon meeting Al, everyone instantly said,
"He looks just like his father." And it was true- even his black hair stuck up untidily at the back, the same way Harry's did. The only differences were the absence of the glasses and the lightning-bolt scar.
The scar...Al, James and Lily had asked their father many, many times about it, but he had never given them a straight answer.
"I got it when I was a baby...when my parents died," was all he ever said. Sometimes Al nopticed his mother give Harry a piercing look whenever he said this, but James didn't seem to think it meant anything.
Al glanced at Rose again. She had sat opposite him, but was twisting her hands in her lap and was muttering under her breath. Al had never seen her so agitated. But only fifteen minutes ago she had seemed really happy. He opened his mouth to ask what the problem was, when the compartment door slid smoothly open.
Scorpius Malfoy leaned against the door-frame. He had already changed into his Hogwarts uniform, and his white-blond hair contrasted strongly with the black of his robes. His eyes roved over Rose, who flushed. A small smirk crossed his pale face, and his gaze travelled back to Al.
"You're the Potter boy," he said. It was not a question. Normally, Al would have pointed out that, technically, there were two Potter boys, and that he preferred the use of his firstname anyway, but something about the newcomer told him to remain silent.
Malfoy's eyes snapped back to Rose. "And you," he continued, "you're Ron Weasley's daughter." Rose went even pinker.
"And what if I am?" she said, eyeing Malfoy with great dislike. He ignored her and spoke to Al, but did not remove his gaze from Rose.
"I suppose you're already used to the fame, are you?" Al still said nothing, so Malfoy carried on. "But, you know, it'll be ten times worse at Hogwarts. I'd hate it, personally." He paused to take in Al's slight frown, then said, "It must be hard...always having to live up to everyone's expectations, having to follow in your dad's footsteps. They'll probably expect you to be able to fight off Dark wizards single-handedly from the moment you set foot in Hogwarts, too."
Al had the sense he was missing something. Something very funny was going on here.
"Just because my dad's an Auror doesn't mean everyone's expecting me to be one," he said slowly.
Malfoy looked slightly confused.
"What's being an Auror got to do with-" Then, it seemed, comprehension dawned. "You mean- you don't- you don't know?" Rose looked between the two boys with an expression of utter terror on her face.
"Know what?" asked Al, nonplussed.
"NO! Malfoy- Scorpius- please, shut up, I'll do anything!" Rose pleaded. However, Malfoy almost seemed to be enjoying himself.
"So you're telling me that your dad never told you why he has that scar?" Al said nothing, but his heart was racing. Rose, meanwhile, seemed to be beside herself.
"PLEASE- don't- or- or I'll-"
"What're you gonna do, strangle me with your plait?" Malfoy said coldly. Rose gave a little squeak, clutched at her long brown braid and fell silent.
Malfoy stepped further into the compartment, closing the door behind him. "Forty-five years ago," he began, "the most famous, most evil Dark wizard in history rose to power. He terrorised everyone. Some people are still reluctant to say his name."
"What was his name?" asked Al curiously.
"Lord Voldemort," replied Malfoy carelessly. "But people called him You-Know-Who, He Who Must Not Be Named, or the Dark Lord."
"What's this got to do with my dad?"
"I'm getting to that," answered Malfoy. "So anyway, Voldemort started looking for followers in the early 70s. He got them, too. They called themselves Death Eaters, and went around killing and torturing people.
"It wasn't long before war broke out. The First War. The Death Eaters fought against the Order of the Phoenix. It was really terrible- people say it was the darkest time.
"But then Voldemort acquired a new target. Lily and James Potter," and Al felt himself freeze, "had to go into hiding. But then, in 1981, he found them." Malfoy paused for effect. Al felt the blood pounding in his ears.
"Go on!" he urged breathlessly. Malfoy took a deep breath and continued his tale.
"He broke into their house and murdered them both. Then he turned on their son, Harry. Your dad," he added, as if Al knew of ten Harry Potters. "Harry Potter was only one year old at the time, but when Voldemort tried to kill him, it didn't work."
"Why not?" gasped Al.
"Like I know," said Malfoy irritably. "Your dad escaped with a scar, when grown wizards died under the same curse."
Al's breath was coming in short gasps now.
"What- what did Voldemort do?" he stammered. Malfoy gave a hollow laugh.
"Voldemort was destroyed. His power gone, his body gone- well, he was a bit like a ghost. He disappeared, and Harry Potter was world-famous from then on.
"But that's not all," added Malfoy, seeing that Al was about to interrupt. He leaned closer impressively. "When your dad was 14, Voldemort came back."
"Back?" echoed Al numbly.
"Back," said Malfoy. "And it was just like before. Murder and kidnap and torture and...and hell, really. But when your dad was 17, he finished Voldemort. Got rid of him. Forever." The word seemed to reverberate around the compartment.
"And then, well, everything was fine. People who'd been cursed came back to themselves, the Death Eaters who hadn't managed to escape were imprisoned, the world was put to rights." Al could feel his hands shaking.
"How...how did you know all this?" he asked, gazing up at Malfoy. The blond boy let out a great "ha!" of laughter, and Al's owl ruffled its wings indignantly.
"How did I know? How did I know?" repeated Malfoy, striding up and down the compartment. He threw up his hands. "Everyone knows! The entire wizarding world knows! It's in books, it's becoming a legend, people still talk about it! Your dad and his friends are evn on Chocolate Frog cards!" He turned. "And you're telling me you never knew?" Al shook his head.
Suddenly Rose stood up: Al had almost forgotten she was there. There was a fierce look in her eyes and her cheeks were pink. Malfoy unconsciously stepped backwards.
"Get. Out." She sounded furious. Malfoy raised his eyebrows archly, in an attempt to regain his usual cool demeanour. When she narrowed her eyes at him, he dropped all pretence of composure, yanked the door open and dashed out. Rose slammed the door with so much force that a hairline crack snaked its way across the glass. She ignored it and turned back to Al.
"Oh, Al..." she murmured. Al, who had half-risen from his seat, fell back into it, his hands over his face. His mouth was dry and his head was spinning. Everything seemed to make sense. His father being recognised everywhere...they could not enter a wizarding shop without waiting for Harry to finish shaking hands with everyone who was in there...why, even now Al recalled pushing open the dusty door of the Leaky Cauldron a few weeks ago, and his father grinning embarrassedly as the entire pub stood as one and raised their glasses to him...and he, Al, had been stupid enough, naive enough, to believe that it was because his father was a well-known Auror. This explained everything.
"Al?" Rose tried again timidly, and he lifted his head to look at her. Tears were brimming out of her ice-blue eyes. He tried to find his voice.
"Did- did you know?"
"Yes," she whispered miserably. "Mum and Dad told me, but- but that made me swear not to tell you until- until your dad thought- until he wanted to tell you." She visibly seemed to shrink under Al's glare.
"So it's like that, is it?" said Al, his voice cracking. The initial shock and disbelief was ebbing away now, being replaced with anger. The same question was ricocheting round and round his brain. Why...why...why...why...why...why?
Why had Harry never told him? Why had Harry kept this secret from him his entire life? Why had he permitted Al's best friend to know, when his- Harry's- own children-
Al turned. Rose was still crying, hunched up on her seat. "Does James know?" he asked roughly.
"What?" Rose hiccoughed, as if Al was speaking Mermish. Al put his hands on the seat each side of Rose and looked into her face.
"Does my brother know what I just found out?" Rose looked terrified, then nodded as though Al was about to rip her head off.
Al stood up and strode over to the window. He gazed out at the fields of cows and sheep, but not really sseeing them. All these different feelings bubbled up inside him, until he thought he would burst. Did his father not trust him? What made James so much more special, more worthy than him? Did Harry think that (and this notion made him feel so angry, so resentful, so hard-done-by that he wanted to smash the window) he, Al, wasn't intelligent enough to comprehend this information?
He turned quickly away from the window, stomped over and banged open the door, ignored Rose's tear-streaked, downcast face, and stormed down the corridor and out of sight.